Hopefully Rocky dies at the end

A long time ago, there was a hungry young actor who wrote a screenplay about a washed-up, journeyman boxer who as a publicity stunt was given a shot at the heavyweight championship. It was a great script, but the actor was unknown, and when he sold the film on the condition that he play the lead, the producers offered him $150,000 to let one of the biggest stars of the day play it instead.

He refused. But his troubles weren't over. When the film was being shot, he had to fight to keep in the movie's most pivotal scene, in which the boxer admits to his girlfriend that he can't beat the champ, but that all that matters is that he goes the distance. Production was running behind, so he had to do it in one take.

The film ended up being one of the greatest of all times. It won the Academy Award for Best Picture. The film's four stars each were nominated for Academy Awards, and the screenplay also netted a nomination.

So what did this actor do next? How many other cinematic masterpieces did he unveil?

None. Instead, he cashed in. He made sequel after bad sequel. He made a sequel with Mr. T. He made a sequel that was thinly disguised propaganda. He made a sequel with Tommy Morrison. And now, at 60, he is going to make another sequel.

Why? Was the first film a fluke? Did he sit down at his typewriter, try to write another Oscar winner, and realize that his talents were fleeting, that he could never do it again? Was it greed? Was it fear that led him to take the easy road? Is he proud of what he's done?

Of course, one great film is more than most people have in them. Every time I watch "Rocky" I can almost forgive Sylvester Stallone for everything that came after.

Almost.